


Velocity

by OnyourRadar



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: AU sort of?, Angst, Different First Meetings, Eliott Loves Lucas, HOpe You ENjoy this MEss of a ONe Shot, He gets a pill that helps but doesn't help sooo...Drugs?, Hurt/Comfort, I'm being purposefully vague., I've been working on this since September, Insomnia, It's been a bitch to write, Lucas can't sleep, Lucas is lonely, Lucas loves Eliott, M/M, Magical Realism, Parallel Universes, Soft Boys, Soulmates, THAT was a bitch to write, They find each other, Things don't go right until the go right?, Until He is ONE, Yann isn't a friend, free form?, nonlinear storyline, panic attacks?, read to find out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:46:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyourRadar/pseuds/OnyourRadar
Summary: He feels a pang in his chest at the same time he feels the biting cold of the water from the faucet over spill onto his hand. He doesn't want this to be a dream.An apartment.A lover.Food.Everything he wants and more in this make believe world and all of it was to disappear when he wakes.--or--Lucas can't sleep. To the point that he feels he is going to do something drastic if he doesn't get any rest. Then he's given a pill. He is faced with the choice of making his dream his reality. But at what cost?
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 61
Kudos: 204





	Velocity

**Author's Note:**

> So...I've been working on this one-shot since September. It's been my brain child that I've just been beating myself up over. Distracting myself by writing other shitty one-shots. But it's finished now and I don't know what to feel about it. I would love to hear your thoughts and comments.

She watches him with eyes sharp and a frown that marks up her face. 

Lucas thinks maybe she might've been pretty when she was younger; a beautiful blonde the center of attention and drawing boys in with her blue eyes and quirky smile. The years working in an office and being bound to her desk with nothing but the weak blue filtered light of a computer screen to look at, has painted the lines of age so clearly on her forehead and cheeks. 

Deep grooves of stress— a manifestation that no matter the amount of anti-aging cream she decides to smear on she wouldn't be able to run away from time. 

Lucas’ eyes flicker over the surface of her desk. He's seen it all before. Everything, bottles of pills, half written prescriptions decorated in illegible chicken scratch. The occasional trinket that lays broken at the base of her monitor, collecting a meaningful pile of dust. 

He reads the name plate that sits skewed in front of him: _Dr. Côte, Public MD_

"Tell me, Lucas. What of your friends?"

"What about my friends?"

"Well...do you have any?"

Her shoulders shrug just a bit. As if asking him to surprise her with his answers. And he knew he wouldn't. She's heard it before. This was nothing new. 

Yes he had friends. They weren't close. They used to be. Him and Yann. But that was years ago, when life was simple and connections did not wane and when they talked everyday. 

Now the occasional, 'hey how you doing?' thrown out in passing is as much as he gets. They stand on different sides of the wall at this stage in their life. But Lucas feels no resentment. Sadness yes. He knows the rules of the game. Life is here to throw wrenches into everything you have and do. His friendship, or lack thereof, was no different. 

"Some...we aren't close."

"Right." She brings a nail to her mouth and Lucas watches as those slightly yellowed teeth gnaw and peel at the brittle nail. She peels it too far and the tip of her fingers morph from a deep pale white to a dull pink and finally a bright red. The blood remains at bay but her wince tells him she's close. She doesn't stop, teeth working to get as far under as possible while her eyes continue their observation of him. 

He frowns at the force of which she pulls the rest of the nail off and this time there is some blood that colors her lips. Lucas is sure his face is half the reason she jerks out of her trance, pulls her fingers away from her mouth and starts to lift papers, shuffling them as if they were important. She diverts her attention to the pile in her hands and Lucas is already tired of it all. 

"Well it's important that you have someone to discuss things with when you find you get overly stressed and ther-"

"With all due respect, I can't sleep. I don't need a therapist." 

He frowns at her as she pauses her shuffling and gives him a pointed look. 

"Exactly. Identifying what is keeping you up is important. The stresses in our lives often put our brains into overdrive and that is what keeps sleep at bay. Hard to chase the Sandman when we are so busy chasing thoughts without so much of an answer in sight."

Lucas bites his lips. This is his fourth time sitting in front of her. Telling her the same thing and she repeats the same spiel. 

"Why won't you help me?"

"Lucas...I did help you. Ambien was supposed to support this problem—"

"But it didn't," he interrupts. Neither did the other pills.

She ignores him and continues as if he never spoke.

"You are young."

"Age has nothing to do with the fact that I can't sleep." It has nothing to do with his staring at the ceiling blankly for days on end. He feels the frustration building in his chest. 

"No. It does. You are telling me that you are experiencing something. A problem that affects countless of adults, hundreds of thousands of able adults who do not have the same distractions as someone as young as you normal does." Her fingers tap a useless rhythm between them. 

"You kids surround yourself with phones, technology, blue lights that steal your sleep, at ungodly hours. You over think the mundane things and slap yourselves with this anxiety that is self made. And then you want a small pill to fix everything." She sighs. As if exasperated by the thought of having to do her job.

"Last time I spoke with you, you told me the same thing. You don't have someone to talk to, you still use your phone at night time. Watch TV when you can’t sleep, to _distract_ you from the fact that you can’t. Until I see you've made some changes to these habits, I will refuse to believe you have an actual physical or mental problem when it comes to sleeping."

She dismisses him with a wave of her hand. "Come see me in a month after you've made these changes and if everything still sucks...I'll see what I can do for you."

Lucas is quick to stand. The chair scraping harshly against the linoleum floor in his haste. He doesn't bother saying goodbye and instead his steps are heavy as he rushes out of her office. 

He nearly crashes into a wait staff on his way out and though he wants to say sorry the disapproving glare that is sent his ways makes him think twice at showing any sort of remorse. 

He huffs and continues on his way heading back to his flat share hoping and praying to whatever god out there that no one was home. He’s tickled by the thought that something would happen in his favor for once. 

He walks the streets with his hands shoved deep into the pocket of his hoodie while he tucks his chin into his scarf.

His teeth chatter and with each point of contact, his head throbs. Lucas is tired. He wants a warm bed to snuggle deep into, he wants his head to by cradled by his pillow. He wants to pretend, with his eyes closed, that sleep was a dear friend and that it visited each night. Not sporadically and leaving Lucas heaving from exhaustion. 

Lucas sighs with relief when he sees his apartment complex loom in the near distance. He pulled his phone out to check the time and notes it’s only 6pm. It is still early, his roommates could still be working. 

Lucas doesn’t waste time with the old and creaky elevator when he reaches home and instead takes the four flights of stairs two at a time and relishes in the slight burn of his calves. He hears the TV on from behind the door and he does his best to school his face, erase the disappointment as best as he could. 

He’s greeted with the sight of Mika, sitting on the couch, clicker in hand and the lights off. That same blue glow the only thing lighting up the small living room. 

"Hey, thought you'd still be at work." 

Mika turns to look at him an unreadable expression on his face. 

"Yeah...I decided to take the day off."

Lucas nods before trying to make his way towards his bedroom. Mika stops him. 

"Hey, Lucas, could you wait a sec...I wanted to talk to you about something." Something in Mika's voice puts Lucas on edge. 

"Listen if this is about rent I'm going to pay it it's just-"

"It's not that." Mika runs his fingers through his own cropped brunette locks. "Well it is but it isn't." 

"Okay…" Lucas wishes he would just get on with it.

"We'll need you to move out by next month." 

Lucas feels his blood stop cold in his veins at the statement. Callously dropped in with so little consideration.

"Is there a reason?" Internally Lucas curses himself for stuttering. For showing Mika that this decision bothered him. That it affects him negatively. 

Something shifts in the older boys stance, in the way he looks back at Lucas. He takes a couple steps closer and Lucas has to fight the urge to step back. To take back what was left of his personal space. 

"Manon is moving back in this month. We're going to give her your room. She's a little bit more stable you know…I'm sorry that it has to be this way."

Lucas doesn't know if he's really sorry. If he's really bothered by the fact that Lucas will be homeless again or if sorry was a simple pleasantry that was meant to fall on deaf ears, a phrase that is loosely thrown around. 

"Wait, she's moving back this month?"

Mika nods and for a second, Lucas thinks it might be pity he sees, shame even. The taller of the two wraps his arms loosely around his waist as if he were the one that needed the makeshift touch of comfort. 

"Right." His mouth opens and closes searching for the invisible words that he has yet to formulate. 

"We thought it would help you if you didn't have to pay rent this month. You'll just take the couch until...you know?"

Lucas is silent for a couple minutes as the thinly veiled demand sinks in. Because no, he doesn't know. Doesn't know what he is supposed to do with such short notice. Doesn't know anyone else he can rely on, has no friends he can call for support. No parents, no family that he would ever want to ask for help from. Lucas doesn't know.

But he nods his head like he does. Lucas refuses to meet Mika's eyes as his feet shuffle on the floor, not knowing where to go. Having no destination, neither here nor there. 

"I'll just grab my things." 

"Well you still have some time. Manon isn't moving in until the end of the week." Mika sounds sad. Voice a little distant as he speaks and Lucas wonders why.

Why now of all times is his roommate showing an ounce of care for Lucas when he hasn't for the past year that they've roomed together. More often than not Lucas could feel the palpable tension settle, perched on their shoulders like a mischievous imp, whenever he came into the room. Where laughter or voices would die off as if Lucas made things awkward by simply existing in the flatshare. 

And he never knew why. He wonders, had he opened up from the start, spoke about his feelings and cried on Mika's shoulders would things have turned out differently. Would he still have a room and a roof to sleep under?

Lucas knows his problem has always been his silence and his inability to open up. That his lack of trust and unwillingness to just talk was what destroyed his friendship with Yann. And Bas. And Arthur. 

But it's too late now. Instead of responding he shrugs. "Yeah, okay."

Lucas leaves it at that. He turns around leaving Mika to stare after him as he heads back out. He thinks he remembers seeing a 'HELP Wanted' sign in one of the windows of a shop he'd passed on his trek back to the apartment. He could do with a second job.

He closes the door behind him and is out on the streets in the matter of minutes relishing in the biting cold wind that rushes him and colors his cheeks a dusty pink. 

In hindsight, Lucas is sure he could identify the odd beating of his heart and the closed feeling of his throat as the panic sinking in. The way he moves, walks, and goes through the motions without clearly recognizing what he was doing is the rush of fear that he tried so hard to squash. But it is real and it is consuming and Lucas feels like he's drowning more by the minute. 

He darts down an alley and without much thought presses his back firmly against the sturdiness of a dirty and smelly brick wall. It holds him up just enough so that, when his knees buckle, Lucas doesn't go tumbling to the ground. 

He doesn't know how long he stays there. But the hours tick by and he counts the seconds in his head as the sun sets. The red, orange, and yellow glow that was cast on the wall in front of him is devoured by shadow. 

The night comes alive around him, the rustles of critters and the echoes of footsteps, the slow roll of tires on asphalt. Lucas hears it all and the last thing on his mind is sleep. 

He wonders if he could find an apartment before the month's end but the queasy feeling that nestles itself into the pit of his stomach tells him otherwise. Tells him that it's probably best to use the allotted time to save up money so he can find a better living situation. 

If he's honest with himself, he doesn't feel ready to stand and face the pity or the uncomplicated sadness that skims the surface of his flatmates face. He forces himself to make his way back to an apartment that, while never truly feeling like home, was a place he felt comfort in. He silently mourns the loss of space. 

This time, at one in the morning, Lucas walks into a silent apartment. No lights, no voices, no figures on the couch. On his _bed._

Lucas steers clear of it. He avoids it for the next couple of weeks. Does his best to push the thought out of his mind as he continues with his days, eyes burning, mind blank, and body exhausted. Because sleep still hasn't come. 

At school he pushes through his classes but feels as if he's wading through water. His arms and legs feeling strained from the effort of having to move. And still sleep skirts around him like an imp. Playing and toying with his perception. He dreams while he's awake. Taking any free moment to simply rest his eyes. 

That's where Yann finds him. Where he stumbles upon him curled up against the wall outside during his lunch period. 

"Lucas?"

The voice sounds muddled but it does the trick and Lucas' eyes snap open. He finds Yann standing just a couple feet away, an unfamiliar look etched on his face. He thinks perhaps it's the fatigue that convinces him to paint the look as concern. Something he hasn't seen in a long time. 

"Are you okay?" 

Lucas doesn't really want to answer the question because he doesn't like the truth. He rolls the words around in his thoughts, like life was a game and Yann's concern was the dice. Brows furrow and he looks like he was about to say something again but his shoulders move in a half shrug, he shakes his head and looks away making a move to leave Lucas to his own devices. 

Something in the way he gives up so easily makes Lucas' voice bubble up and out of his throat before he can stop it. 

"Why did we stop being friends?" He surprises himself. Because he never thought he'd want the answer to such a question. 

Yann looks away then looks back again. 

"I guess…" Lucas waits with a crippling fear that he wasn't aware he could even feel at this point. 

"I was tired of chasing after a friendship that was one sided." Yann sounds as tired as Lucas feels. His voice teeters on the edge of sadness and that of a man who has made his peace. 

He frowns and lets his mouth work through the cobweb because his mind still doesn't understand. 

"What do you mean?" Because he doesn't understand. He's not sure he will ever at this point. 

"C'mon Lucas. Don't play dumb...you never let me in, never told me anything. Kept everything to yourself and I never knew what to expect, never knew what was bothering you when something clearly was."

Yann moves his hands exasperated. Sure that he was explaining something that was clear as day. 

"How was I supposed to be your best friend when you didn't trust me enough to talk to me?" 

And that was where Yann was wrong. Lucas looks away from the stranger in front of him. He trusted Yann so much he didn't want to burden him with his bullshit. He feels his nose start to drip and a pressure build along the walls of his throat. 

It was fear that led Lucas to forget how to talk. Held his voice and heart with a vice like grip. Maybe it was the haze or the cold that swept through and engulfed him but Lucas feels the need to talk before Yann walks away permanently. 

A steady stream of words flow and spills his story. Catches Yann up on everything that he's missed and more of things he's never told anyone. He lets go of his secrets and simply talks and talks and talks while Yann stands and listens. About his mother,how two years have gone by and he still hasn't vocalized her death because he doesn't know how to cope with it.How his father has a new family and there's no place for him. The couch and being usurped from his only place of comfort. The lack of sleep and utter exhaustion, the kind that leads him down the rabbit holes of questioning when would be the best time to give up. After what feels like hours Lucas grows silent and his eyes find Yann once again. Gauges him for a reaction but finds a stone hard face looking right back at him. 

They watch each other for a moment and Lucas waits in trepidation, finding it silly that he's holding his breath. 

Of everything that could've potentially come out, _'I'm sorry to hear that'_ and _'are you okay'_ are all things he might expect to hear. The false condolences. Instead Lucas hears none of it. He watches as Yann's shoulders tense.

"Why are you telling me this now?" Sure that Yann does not intend for his question to sound so harsh, but Lucas flinches regardless. "What did you expect me to say? To do?"

Nothing. Lucas expects nothing. Because he knows the time has long since past and their friendship was unsalvageable. Something in him aches to the point of pain and Lucas wants to rewind, to hit that button, so he could go back and smile as Yann walks by him. Nod his head like he always did and make out like nothing was wrong with him, that he was simply taking a nap during his lunch break. 

But he made a fool of himself and he lacks power to control time. 

Lucas forces his mouth shut and closes his eyes before resting his head on his folded arms, knees acting as his crutch. He listens to the deep sigh and counts Yann's steps like sheep, falling into a light sleep when things around him grew quiet again. 

He misses his afternoon classes but in the back of his head the thought, that he finally spoke with someone regarding everything, filters through and he mentally checks it off his list. 

When he wakes he resolves to go back to his doctor. He has strived to do everything under the sun that would potentially help him sleep. 

He hides his phone, keeps the TV off and even goes as far as taking over the counter pills like melatonin or benadryl, just to feel drowsy enough that his body would finally relax enough to rest. It doesn’t work and Lucas knows he’s on the brink of doing something drastic.

He finds himself in front of that same unfocused blue gaze watching her shaking her head. Frustration builds to the point that he can’t stop the tears from falling. His voice cracks as he begs for her to do something because his world his melting around him and he is at a loss of what to do. 

He’s scared of his own thoughts, scared of what he is capable of. 

“Lucas… have you done as I asked?”

Lucas nods his head as his lower lip trembles. 

“Yes. I’ve spoken to others about what’s going on.” _Emptied my guts and received nothing._ The electronics, the pills. He tells her he’s done it all. “Please. I need something.” He wants anything. 

Maybe it was his tears, the paleness of his skin, or the way his voice wobbles, but her shoulders slump and she closes her eyes and Lucas can smell the defeat in the air swirling around the both of them. A silent connection that binds them together. 

"Do you have a break coming up?" 

Lucas is confused. He tilts his head and frowns at the question, a look that draws out her frustration. 

"For school, Lucas! For school…" she waves her hand as if telling him to keep up. 

Oh. He nods. He has a long weekend coming up.

She shakes her head and stands, long fingers grasping at the keys laid out in front of her. A bundle so big, Lucas could feel the weight simply by looking at them dangle in her grasp.

Long keys, short keys. Brass and silver colored, worn and grooved from years of clinking against one another. She reaches underneath her desk and pulls up a plain box and it takes her a couple of minutes of muttering to herself and switching from key to key before she hears a click and a smile breaks out on her face. 

"Ah, here we go." 

Lucas watches as she pulls out a black pill box. She lays it down gently and Lucas can her the rattle on the inside. 

"This," she gestures to the box. "You cannot speak with anyone about this." Lucas nods his head at her dramatics. 

"I am serious, Lucas. I could lose my license for sharing this with you." 

Lucas sits up a little straighter. Squares his shoulders and nods again. A gesture which causes her to roll her eyes. 

"Of course you'll sign a waiver, one that is legally binding, but…" her shoulders sag, "from the sound of things it looks like you'll need these."

That dread, that same trepidation he felt when faced with confronting Yann curls in the pit of his stomach, unfurling its tendrils like an unknown monster that lives inside him.

When she opens the box with a pop of the lid, Lucas peers inside, seeing five small oblong pills colored an electric blue. A small white 'V' stamped on either end. 

"What is it?" His voice sounds small and far away, as if he really doesn't want to know. 

Her head swishes back and forth and her hair moves with it. Lucas can tell as she bites the inside of her cheeks, thinking carefully about what words she's going to use. 

"It's called Velocity."

 _Velocity._ Lucas rolls the word around in his mouth, tongue caressing it slowly, lips curling and popping on the word. 

"There has only been 3 recorded cases of patients having ever used this in the last 50 years. It's a dangerous drug so you must pay attention to what you can and cannot do with it."

She sounds far more serious than he has ever heard before. Lucas swallows against his fear. 

"Why do you have this if it's so dangerous?" 

She looks away. "My great grandmother made this drug, to help with my grandmother and mother's insistent insomnia." Her voice grows quiet as her eyes travel the length of memory lane. 

Lucas doesn't push until she's ready. Dr. Côte lets out a pain filled sigh.

"But none of them heeded the warning and they took it too much too soon." 

"They? You said your grandmother and your mother?" Who was the third. The question is on the tip of his tongue and he is sure she can taste his curiosity from where she stands. 

"My daughter." 

Lucas wants to say sorry. Wants to reach out with a comforting hand but he doesn't because he struggles on that level. So he remains silent and allows for her to grieve without judgement. 

"Anyways, this is all besides the point." She looks at him with determination. "You will leave here but not before you promise to take my warnings seriously. If you don't there will be no helping you, do you understand the implications?"

He doesn't need to think about it much. Doesn't need to consider whether or not he wants to do this because at this point it's a matter of need not want. 

"Of course."

"Right, well. Only one pill every six weeks or longer if you prefer, but never before. No matter how tired you become. Am I clear?"

Lucas nods. She shakes her head. 

"I need your verbal answer, boy." He vocalizes it. 

"Each pill will knock you out for a four day period. You will not wake up for anything so I suggest you find a safe spot to do this."

Lucas frowns. "Like a self-induced coma?"

"Exactly like this. You will not eat or drink or go to the bathroom while in this state. But when you wake, you will find your body trying to catch up. This process will not be fun by any means. You'll feel rested though. At the end of your six week cycle your exhaustion will hit you hard. Do not give in to the urge for another pill. Now, the things you see when asleep, always remember that it is a product of your mind. Not reality. If you get lost in this, Lucas, the urge will become an addiction. You cannot afford that."

"What happens if I take more than I'm supposed to? Before the cycle ends?" 

She smiles at him, teeth shining from the blue glow of her computer screen. 

"You don't wake up." A chill shot down his spine. "Do you still want to do this?" He considers saying no but goes against the logic of his brain. 

"Yes." 

"Fine. After your first trip, I need you to report back to me and I'll monitor you. I'll write an excused absence for you as well."

"What happens after the fifth pill?" 

Dr. Côte shrugs. "We don't know. No one's ever made it that far."

She closes her eyes and her fingers, nails all bitten and cuticles ripped, comes up to massage at her temple.

"They never made it past the third pill."

Lucas leaves the office with his pocket five pills heavier. His shoulders slumped at the weight of what he considers doing. He signed his nondisclosure agreement, the liability waiver and such before she allowed him to leave. 

It's Friday and Lucas hunkers down on a park bench. He calls up his father, who he hasn't spoken to in two years. He knows for a fact that his childhood home remained unused and empty. But he didn't have a key.

When the familiar yet strange voice answers after the third ring, Lucas does his best to talk past the lump in his throat. His voice comes out gravelly.

The call ends unexpectedly, with his father agreeing to let him stay there on his own and rent free until he has a steady income. Of course Lucas doesn't accept.

"I do have a job so I'll send you some money every month. It won't be a lot but...it's what I have."

"Lucas, it's fine."

"It's not. I'm not a charity case."

Lucas hears the heavy sigh, a sound that Lucas clearly translates into an apology. An apology for failing him, but Lucas is still hurt so he can't accept it. Not yet. 

"I'll drop the key off in the mailbox in an hour. And I'll get the electricity to be turned on. You might need to clean the place up a little bit but it's livable."

"Thank you."

"Lucas...is everything alright?"

"Fine. Everything is fine." He quickly says his goodbyes and hangs up before his father could say anything else. 

Lucas sits and waits in the cutting wind. Leg bouncing impatiently. He figures he doesn't have much to pack at Mika's except some of his personal belongings. He wants to grab those when no one is home. His fingers twirl the pill box around impatiently and waits for the hour to pass by filling his time with people watching. 

Lucas creates living dreams, stories for those who walk past him with their heads in the clouds. It passes the time and perhaps his storytelling allows him to connect just that much more with his aloof strangers. He lives vicariously through them until reality crashes down as his phone buzzes and it's his father telling him everything was all set. 

He doesn't bother to say thank you, despite knowing that he should. 

Instead, Lucas makes quick work with trying to navigate the distance between where he currently resides to where he wants to end up. He takes the bus into the quiet neighborhood of his old home. 

He doesn't have to look hard for the key, taped securely to the underside of the rusted mailbox colored an off white from age. 

The door opens with a turn of his wrist and a gentle push. 

His eyes roam over the familiarity of it all. The sight of the blue loveseat that was tucked away in the corner; a place he spent countless family movie nights falling asleep on. The pictures that line the hallway; images of a lost childhood filled with happiness and smiles all around. Lucas thinks if he wasn't so tired he might have felt the nostalgia take over. 

But his mind is blank. Instead his arms and hands move mechanically to flick on the lights. A feeling of relief washes over him when he sees that, yes, there is in fact electricity and for once he can believe the words of his father. 

Lucas feels sluggish as he makes his way to the couch, the closest place of comfort. He takes off his shoes and lies down directions replying in his head over and over again. 

With one hand Lucas wrestles the pill bottle from the confines of his sweater pocket, placing it on the flat of his stomach. He opens it and takes out one of the oblong pills before placing the container on the coffee table and snapping the lid back in place. He holds the pill up to the light, rolling it softly. 

_"Close your eyes and take it dry. Make sure you are lying down. It **will** hit you hard and fast. Whatever you do...don't fight it." _

With shaking hands, Lucas closes his eyes and brings the pill to his mouth. 

_“It will react instantaneously once it touches the inside of your mouth. You will feel like you are drowning. Choking almost. Keep your eyes closed.”_

He quells the fear that caused his heart to beat rapidly and pops it in his mouth. Before he can form another thought he feels the air punched out of his lungs and he clenches his eyes tightly, fearing that they would open without his consent. 

Lucas falls. Rapidly. He drops and his back arches at an impossible angle. Arms and legs flailing, body bent till he practically folds in on himself. He tries hard to grasp onto something. His fingers touch nothing but the air that refuses to fill his lungs. 

Lucas feels like paper at the mercy of the wind as it folds him and creates creases in his body. 

It doesn’t feel right. His couch and makeshift bed has long since melted and the fabric disintegrates before floating away from him. He sees but he doesn’t see. He knows his eyes are closed, can feel the pressure of squeezing them so tight, yet all around him are beautiful little particles of light zooming past. Carried by a howling wind that is simultaneously rushing yet silent. 

What he sees are dying stars of another universe, stories, and dreams that are not his. Something is burning. The skin of his arms exposed to a heat that is all consuming.The intensity of the pain overtakes his brain and all he thinks of is how it feels like his skin is peeling off his body strip by strip. And he knows that if he were to look down, to open his eyes, he would see the pink of his flesh and the pulsing of his muscles without the layer of protection. 

His mouth opens and he screams into the abyss. Screaming into the open universe with no one to answer him. Lucas is, for all intents and purposes, a screeching comet cutting across an unfamiliar sky. 

He doesn’t know where he’s going to land but he hopes he does so soon. 

_“Lucas?”_

Lucas turns his head, eyes still shut tightly.

_“Lucas? Wake up, love. You’re dreaming.”_

The voice is muffled and echoing all around him. He wants to _land._ All the noise, achingly loud and pulsing through his frame is suddenly sucked into a vacuum, in one swell swoop, the rush of it build to a point of pain that Lucas can't handle. Then everything is silent. The feeling of fingers the brushing on his cheeks, pulls him to the surface and out of the depths in which he fell  
Lucas sits up gasping. That same feeling of having the air ripped out of him just seconds before is back but this time his eyes are open. 

He blinks rapidly in the dim lit room, head turning to look all around him. He scrambles away from the stranger in front of him. 

“W-where am I?” _Who are you?_ He knows he is stuttering and his chest is heaving. Lucas feels panic unfurl inside him as his vision starts to go dark at the edges. He reads concern in the kind blue eyes that watch him. 

“Hey, hey. Lucas?” Large hands move to cup at his face, holding him still and he fights the impulse to rip himself away from the unfamiliar comfort. 

"Breathe, baby...breathe. Follow me, there we go." _In and out._

Lucas drops down from his height, slower now and he listens to the calming voice that resonates and echoes all around him. Air rushes his lungs and he feels them expand as he breathes.

When he calms, those blue eyes crinkle under the pressure of a smile. 

"Shit, you really scared me there Lucas."

"S...sorry?" Those same hands move to run through his dampened hair. Fingers sweeping and brushing back the sweat that Lucas can feel dripping slowly down his forehead and cooling on the back of his neck. 

"You were screaming." The voice goes quiet and those lips, a beautiful dusty rose, dove down at the corners. 

"Was it a nightmare?"

Lucas is unsure of what to say, how to answer. He doesn't know what's going on and wonders if he is dreaming. His eyes flicker back and forth taking in an unfamiliar apartment. He looks down and sees he's wearing something different from his hoodie and jeans.

In a moment of irrational fear Lucas pushes the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal the unblemished skin of his arm. Everything intact. 

The couch he sits on is deep plush-red. Lucas looks to his left and he can see how the sun is just barely peeking through a set of yellow curtains. 

He looks back down at the kneeling boy. He is breathtakingly handsome. An accentuated nose, angled jaw, lush lips, and eyes a deep blue and crystalline grey with lashes that go on for days. Lucas is acutely aware of the long fingers that draw soothing circles on his bare thighs. He fights against the blush. 

Lucas clears his throat and plays along.

"Mm. Something like that." It comes out quieter than he intends.

"I told you not to watch that movie before heading to bed. That's what happens when you watch dumb horror movies." 

His stranger leans his weight on his heels, teeters just the slightest before pushing himself to stand. A large hand runs and messes up the already tousled hazelnut locks. 

He bends at the waist and drops a soft kiss on Lucas' cheeks and Lucas instantly feels himself go red. 

Definitely a dream. 

Lucas watches as the other boy turns and walks toward the adjoined kitchen, a saunter in his steps.

Something made him call out. 

"Hey!" Lucas wishes he could somehow, forcefully swallow his own voice. But he can't, so he settles with trying his best to swallow his nerves, especially when the taller boy turns and directs that blue gaze on him again. 

"Hm?"

"H-humor me. What's your name?" He could tell his voice came out shaky, washed out. How does he get out of this one? Lucas watches as that smile turns into a frown and those brows furrow, taking a deep dive and marring that beautiful face. 

Lucas shrugs. 

The other boy rolls his eyes and the smile is back. He walks towards Lucas, mouth already forming his answer when something strange happens. 

His body glitches and freezes. The sound that Lucas hears are half formed words stuck on repeat like a broken record. Lucas feels his heart begin to beat a little faster at the sight. 

Definitely a dream. 

And as soon as it happens it stops and his stranger keeps moving forward like nothing is out of the ordinary. As if he didn't realize his body phased in and out like static. He walks until he stands directly in front of Lucas again. 

"This nightmare really got you shook."

Lucas nods again. "Where are we?" 

His boy smiles, looks up at the ceiling and crosses his arms at his waist. 

"We've lived here for 3 years now? How much did you have to drink last night?" 

Lucas shrugs and says again, "Just humor me, would you?"

It happens again. The static, the phasing. His beautiful stranger stuck in a reality glitch each time Lucas asks a question. He hears nothing but white noise. 

"There, you happy now?" 

Lucas doesn't get his answer, he doesn't think he will, but he nods. Because it feels like the natural thing to do. This time when he walks away Lucas doesn't call him back with a question. Instead, Lucas sinks deeper into the couch and draws his legs under his body. He takes in every little thing that happens around him. 

Now, with a little more time to take in everything Lucas feels more aware. The odd sensation of feeling at home and at ease washes over him and Lucas finds it easy to relax. From his spot on the couch he watches the other move around in the kitchen. 

Lucas is dying to know who is this beautiful man his mind dreamt up . In a modern set apartment he's never seen. But even more, Lucas wants to know why there is no sound.

Aside from their voices, when he speaks or is spoken to, everything is deathly silent. No creaks, no faucet drips, no light shuffling of the feet. 

Silence. 

Lucas finds it eerie that his dream world hosts a beautiful stranger and a distinct lack of noise. 

And even more, Lucas has no clue what to do with himself. Like a detective, starring in his own show, he scans the room trying his best to catch a hint of anything that could reveal something. 

Someone loves nature, if the terrariums hanging from the ceiling was anything to go by. Or the lively green plants sat in corners, adorning the shelves against the calm blue walls. A gardener, plant enthusiast. 

Lucas wonders if it's him. 

And an artist. If the framed sketches, little sticky notes with modest images fill the empty spaces of a cork board that hangs above a small desk pushed against a wall were anything to go by. He sees images of a cute cartoon rendition of a racoon in all different poses.

He stands and observes, his fingertips grazing gentle and catching on the edges of said pictures. 

Definitely an artist and a gardener.

Definitely a dream.

"Are you hungry?" 

Lucas startles out of his gazing and jumps in surprise when he feels fingers massaging gentle on his shoulders. 

He turns quickly and cranes his neck to lock eyes with the too familiar stranger. He has the urge to step up on his tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss on a welcoming cheek. 

So he does and he is answered with the brightest smile. A smile that makes his knees weak. That cause him to lean closer and hold onto broad shoulders just to keep himself up right. 

He finds that he is hungry, so he nods but doesn't let go of the other. Instead he leans up and quickly familiarizes himself with the warmth that he knew, he would get no where else. Not in the waking world. 

He lets himself be walked backwards until he is flushed against the wall and Lucas isn't sure where he begins and where his stranger ends with how close they stand. He feels a boldness that is unlike him, overtake his senses and he likes it. _Enjoys_ it to a fault. He doesn't stop the kiss from happening and even urges the taller boy to mold their lips together in a move that is nothing short of perfection. 

Lucas is not himself. He doesn't mind as he gasps against the pressure, coaxes the other into a heated kiss. When he runs out of air and his vision swims from the lack of oxygen, Lucas forcefully pulls away and tilts his head to bathe in the sensation of love bites peppered along his neck and collarbone. 

When his lover pulls away, Lucas stares. Looks on feeling hazy and gets lost in eyes that are pools of liquid galaxies. 

He whispers, voice cracking at the quietness, "I know you…"

Something in the way he speaks, because it sounds broken even to his own ears, cause the other to smile sadly. 

"You do. You do know me." They rest foreheads together, their eyes closing and mouths open, breathing in each other's air as they enjoyed the simple closeness. But it ends too quickly and like that, the moment is over and they pull away from each other and a part of Lucas, a part he didn't realize existed, mourns for the contact. 

"I made lasagna." Large hands grip his smaller ones and drag him into the kitchen and pushes him gently to sit down at the island. 

A piping hot plate of the pasta dish is pushed in front of him and Lucas feels ravenous as he starts to eat. It bursts with flavors on his tongue and he devoured it in a matter of minutes. He shyly asks for seconds and is greeted with a beaming smile and a chuckle that spoke of endearment. He hadn't felt hungry in months and questions if this was the work of the pill. 

With his second plate Lucas slows it down and decidedly takes the time to watch the other eat. Taking in all the minute details of the other from the way he grips his fork, how those formed lips slide against the metal, his chewing and the movement of his throat as he swallows. Lucas swallows thickly at the sight of solid muscles on a built frame, arms that he thinks, could hold him up and against the wall without much effort. 

Lucas was suddenly very thirsty. He clears his throat and looks away; looks at anything and everything that was not the boy in front of him. He scoots his chair back and goes to grab a glass from the cabinet to fill with water when he is struck by the thought that he simply knew where the glasses were without asking. 

He feels a pang in his chest at the same time he feels the biting cold of the water from the faucet overspill onto his hand. He doesn't want this to be a dream. 

An apartment.

A lover. 

Food. 

Everything he wants and more in this make believe world and all of it was to disappear when he wakes. 

"Lucas?" 

Lucas shakes out of his stupor and turns to go sit back down. His plate is empty and stomach full but he feels a simple comfort in sitting and watching the other finishing his meal. It feels right and Lucas hasn't felt right in a long time. 

When they are done eating and the dishes are left to soak in the sink, Lucas is taken by the hand and led to the bedroom where a t shirt and sweatpants are tossed his way. He quickly changes into his pjs all the while blushing at doing so in front of the other. 

He is beckoned to bed but a fear grips at him and his thoughts scream in his head that he is not ready to sleep. Not ready to wake. Scared of the natural process of jumping back into the routine of staying up at all hours of the day, living out life without a person to care about his well being. 

He hesitates for a minute more before he joins the other and he feels that sudden exhaustion hit him. Feels it lick at his bones and he struggles to carry his own weight. Lucas yawns as he lies down on the bed. He feels arms curl around him and a warmth against his back as he snuggles into the hold. He lets his eyes close and allows the negative thoughts to slip from his mind as he embraces sleep for what feels like the second time since taking his first pill. 

He dreams in streaks of grey and of a howling wind that nips at him. Lucas finds him floating away from the warmth and comfort of strong arms. He reaches and cries out for them as he remains suspended in the open sky. He wasn't ready to give it all up. 

When he wakes the first thing Lucas notices is the grey tone of his surroundings. The bed that was overly comfortable and plush. The fact that he was sitting up alone in a bed that wasn't his. 

The second thing he notices is the silence and that is when it all comes rushing back. He realizes he is still there. In that unknown place with the unknown stranger. Oddly enough a quiet satisfaction tickles him and he gathers his wits and leaves the comfort of the bed.

His dreams bleed away with each blink of his eyes.

Shuffling his feet against the wooden floor board as he makes his way to the living room, Lucas catches sight of the other lounging on the couch reading a book. 

Lucas feels disoriented. Not right. Because he expected to see the creme colored walls of his childhood living room. Expected to see the cobwebs hanging in the corner. The busted TV sitting unused on the dusty old entertainment stand. He expected to feel weariness that ran bone deep but he didn't. 

He felt uneasy but well rested. Lucas makes it the last couple of steps and allows instinct to dictate his actions, throwing one leg over one side. Finds himself wedging it nicely against soft cushion and flesh. He straddles the others thick thighs, settles his weight comfortably and waits for his lover to place down the book to look up at him; saying nothing and saying everything all at once with his grey blue eyes. 

Lucas lies down against the sturdy chest, turns his head to watch the wall as he listens to sound that wasn't his own breathing. The steady beat of a heart crushes him just as much as it calms him. 

He feels the soft threading of fingers in his hair and Lucas has the urge to cry.

How could this not be real? How could the sound of a beating heart, a sound so soothing, be a figment of his imagination? 

How was he capable of creating such a fantasy, such a universe where everything was exactly as it was supposed to be?

Lucas closes his eyes. The pressure is thick and the tears build but he never let's them fall as he focuses on the gentle massage. It lulls him back into a light sleep. 

A sleep where he is aware but chooses to keep his eyes close. Where he counts the rise and fall of the chest that lifts and drops him at each inhale and exhale. 

It's during this type of sleep when Lucas hears it. A voice that is the materialization of the feeling that has lurked ever since he woke in a sweat drenched state to a new make believe life. 

_Pick it up._

It whispered to him. The voice appears in whisps, ghostly and echoing in the emptiness of his mind. 

_Pick it up._

His eyes snap open and he looks around, no one but Lucas and his mystery boy are in the living room. 

But something nags at him and tells him to look at his phone that rests innocently on the coffee table. Not a second later his phone moves, vibrates as the screen lights up. Lucas imagines the sound of buzzing.

He's quick to sit up, movement jostling the other as he reaches a thin arm to grab at the phone. When he looks at the glowing screen, unsurprisingly, it is blank. 

No name. No number. 

He answers it anyways and feels surprise jump up his throat at the voice that appears on the other line. 

"Lucas!" 

It holds an affection and closeness that he hasn't heard in years. His mouth opens and closes in his struggle to formulate a greeting. 

"Lucas?"

It's the same and yet different. Holds a little less stress and a little more happiness. Firm and sure in tone. 

"Dude? You there?"

"Y-yeah.. Yann?" He stutters and swallows thickly at that queasy feeling that boils in the pit of his stomach. 

"Who else would it be? Is Eliott with you?"

 _Eliott._ Lucas turns to see grey blue eyes— a little more grey than blue in this midday light— looking up at him concerned. 

_Eliott._ His name was Eliott. 

"Eliott?" He speaks the name cautiously as if a hole would open up and swallow him whole for figuring out the answer to this riddle he was living. 

Lucas continues to stare, eliciting a frown to appear on the other's face. 

"Yeah, yeah. He's here." Lucas tries to sound more confident than he feels. Rolls the name, Eliott, around in his head and becomes intimate with it. 

"Cool, he wasn't answering his phone but he said he'd meet for a bite before work. Still happening? Could you ask?"

Lucas nods his head despite knowing the other couldn't see. The conversation afterwards is a blur that Lucas struggles to wrap his head around. 

Eliott moves to get ready. Heads to take a shower, leaving Lucas to look on from his curled position on the couch. He twirls the phone in his hand thinking. 

"Are you sure you don't want to join?" 

Lucas nods his head. Something tells him he wouldn't be able to leave even if he wanted to. 

"Where did you say you were going again?" 

Eliott phases, his chin tucked near his chest, fingers frozen on buttons as his voice breaks out into static. The edge of his body becomes fuzzy like someone took an erase to him but didn't finish the job. Then it's over before it began and he's moving again.

Deft fingers doing up the buttons, right hand coming up to ruffle wet hair, eyes locking onto Lucas again. Looking normal. 

"You always loved the food there." Eliott walks over to kneel on the floor in front of Lucas and Lucas looks down at him. He can’t pinpoint why but everything starts to makes sense ever time he looks at Eliott and vice versa.

“I’ll go next time...tell Yann I said hi?” He whispers the last part. Unsure and still a little thrown off by the fact that Yann was a friend, a close friend. Eliott nods, stands up just enough to plant a kiss on Lucas’ forehead before straightening all the way and heading towards the door. 

Lucas is left to his own devices when he sees but doesn’t hear the door click shut. He looks over at the window with the yellow curtain. The thought to go look out to see if he can identify anything that looks familiar strikes him and he gives him. Halfway across the room he stops moving when he feels that uncomfortable, squeamish feeling attack him from the inside out.

He pauses his steps and glares at the window. He makes to move towards it again and suddenly he feels that sense turn into a blinding pain. He slams his eyes shut against it and finds a brazen white light pulsing in time with a growing headache. It’s there until he backs up and heads back towards the couch. Lucas sinks into the cushions breathing hard. 

He looks up at the door in the hallway across from him. His blue eyes narrow as he stands and runs towards it. Again halfway there Lucas falls and groans in pain. Something was keeping him from finding out where he was. 

Something unexplainable. 

He travels back to the couch to nurse his invisible wounds, the dull pounding in his head provides the perfect conditions for him to fall back to sleep.

He doesn’t know how long he is out for when he feels the slight pressure of being shaken awake. When his eyes snap open, Eliott is looking down at him with the same concern painted on his face that he held before he left to meet with Yann. 

“Hey, how long have you been asleep for?” 

Lucas shakes his head because he doesn’t have a sense of time. Here, in his perfect prison. 

“I’m not sure. Since you left?” 

Surprise lights up Eliott’s face at the admission.

“You’ve been sleep all day. It’s well past 10.” 

Lucas doesn’t know what to say so he keeps his mouth closed and simply nods and looks up at the other. Eyes blank and mind wishing he had the answers. 

He croaks out, voice laden with sleep, “Will you take me to bed?” Because sleep next to Eliott felt right. Sleep next to him was a sensation that Lucas couldn’t pinpoint. A baffling clarity. 

Eliott’s response was to bend, arms slipping securely under Lucas' knees and shoulders. Lucas feels weightless as he is lifted from the couch his own arms moving automatically to circle around Eliott's neck and holding on. Carried like a bride on her wedding day. His mouth goes dry at thought, at the image that plays through his mind. 

When Eliott lays him down, tucks him in and makes a move to leave Lucas grabs at his arm, bold. 

He feels more awake than sleepy but he doesn't want the other to go so his words drip from his lips quietly begging. Needy. 

"Stay?" 

And Lucas is sure that Eliott is there to grant his wishes. To ensure Lucas wants for nothing because he smiles slowly, eyes soft and loving as he lies down next to Lucas, tangles their legs, ankles touching and hips aligned. 

Lucas feels content at their closeness. He tilts his head just the slightest, gazes locked with Eliott. 

"How was your day?" His voice barely a whisper, he imagines, escaping him softly to caress the other. 

Lucas watches lips pursed and eyes moving to look up at the ceiling as Eliott thinks of what to say. His quiet murmurings lasts well into the night, punctuated by unplanned kisses on Lucas' temples, his cheeks. To the point of his brows, the tip of his nose. Light peppered kisses on his neck as Eliott's breath tickled stories against his skin about the mundane things he did while Lucas slept the sunlight away. 

And Lucas felt like he was falling. Falling even when he woke up eyes opening fast and looking every which way. Falling when his vision is swarmed with color and his ears burst with all the slightest sounds. Falling because his limbs are stiff and when he attempts to stand his body doesn't comply and he falls over the edge of his blue couch that he just spent the last four days comatose on. 

As soon as he regains function of his arms and legs Lucas rushes to the bathroom and he vomits clear bile and expels everything. 

When he calms down, cleans himself up and washes his face, Lucas takes a moment to look in the mirror. Aside from the redness of his eyes from forcefully throwing up, he sees a noticeable difference. 

His skin looks refreshed for the prominent bags had lightened drastically. He feels rested like he could move freely but Lucas brings his hands to his lips, fingers tracing the shape of it. Brings his fingers to touch against his cheeks, pulls down his shirt to reveal his collarbone. Lucas still feels those phantom kisses. Remembers clearly the absolute care in the way Eliott touched him. 

He feels rested but there is an emptiness in his chest. The sounds that reverberate through the house echoes with a loneliness that he needs to become reaccustomed with. A storyline in which it was just him against the world, where he was no longer someone else's world. 

A storyline where Eliott doesn't exist and Yann still wasn't his friend. 

Where he doesn't quite have a home.

Lucas swallows against the lump in his throat, ignores how it closes up and his nose starts to run. He bites back the sadness and collects himself. Cuts off those thoughts as he chooses to focus on getting food because he was starving. He quickly checks the time, looks at the date and thinks he can eat while he walks. It's only an hour later that he finds himself sitting in front of his doctor, finishing off a deli sandwich he bought on the go. 

She waits patiently for him, pulling out a large worn blue journal- -pages yellowed and cover stained and torn in places— all the while. He wipes his hands on a wrinkled napkin, swipes at his pants where lingering crumbs made a temporary home. 

She opens to an empty page, stands, and motions for him to move towards the examination table. He strips down to a plain tee sits straight and breathes when she tells him to breathe. Shivers slightly when that cold stethoscope brushed his back, the skin of his chest. 

He holds out his arm as she checks his blood pressure and counts for his pulse. 

“Everything looks normal,” she speaks as she moves back towards the desk. “Tell me, how does your body feel?”

Weightless. Like arms could easily hold him up and against a sturdy chest. But Lucas doesn’t think that’s what she’s looking for so he holds his thoughts to himself. 

“Light.” Like he can finally move. To stretch without that ache. She scribbles a note and looks up with the first smile he has seen on her face in a while. 

“So it works. You feel rested? Tell me about it.” 

He nods because, yes. It works. Well. Tells her how he flew and fell. How he woke and slept and slept and slept. 

“And how are you feeling?” 

Empty. Broken. Washed up and wrong. He wants to spill the words out like a truth serum. Wrong because he understands. Understands something that has been made clear the longer he remains awake staring and talking to her. 

“Fine.”

She cocks a brow. 

“Fine?” 

He looks on because though he said it, he doesn’t want to confirm his lies. He licks at his teeth, wants to brush, rinse his mouth. He hates the taste the word _“fine”_ leaves on his tongue. 

“Lucas, I’m going to need you to be honest. This is only going to work in your favor if you are honest with what you tell me.”

And Lucas looks at her. Looks at those blue eyes that are just that much lighter than his. The slow blink of blond lashes as she observes him, takes in all his features. The lack of trust that manifests in the form of a frown. 

He looks at the pages, looks at how the journal is filled half way and sees the way she is chasing answers. Chasing the ghost of her daughter and what caused her to leave and break too soon. And Lucas thinks he’s figured it out. It’s weighing on him sitting on his shoulders waiting for the chance to be made real. Real through the words he speaks. He doesn’t know if he can do it because even _he_ doesn’t want to face the truth. 

"What did you see? What did you hear?" 

He saw blues and greys. Tones that calmed his racing heart. He saw cosmic eyes that held him as the center of the universe. He saw a Lucas who was complete. A Lucas who wasn't afraid. Saw what he thought was the closest thing to love as he was going to get. 

He heard nothing. Heard the silence of a universe that kept its secrets. A silence that spoke volumes. Told him that none of it, none of what he experienced there was truly his but screamed at him that it could be. 

"Lucas…"

She sounds resigned. He looks at her and swallows because somehow they are in this together, and she _knows._

And the truth sits between the two of them like a heavy stone. 

"Dr. Côte...your daughter," he starts, voice trembling just the slightest. "What was she-- before she, I mean--"

"What was she like before she died?" 

She brings a hand and runs it down the length of her face and it seems they’ve switched positions. It seems she wilts in real time, comes undone under his gaze. Her hunched shoulders speak a story of a quiet daughter, who kept to herself. A daughter who struggled with words and struggled even more with the relationships around her. A girl who had her mother’s eyes but didn’t have the will to keep them open. 

A girl like him.

Lucas watches as it takes her seconds to recollect, to sit up straight and slam the doors on the flood of emotions that tried so hard to make it known on the lines of her face. She closes the blue journal, blinks once and twice then breathes in deeply before stretching her lips into a grotesque smile. 

“Let’s pick up next time. In six weeks. If you feel the urge to take it at any point before please check in with me.” 

It was a dismissal so Lucas high tails it out of the room. Ignores the way her eyes went from clear to pink in a matter of seconds. He swallows the guilt and allows the door to close behind him. He would see her in six weeks time. 

For the time being he heads towards the apartment. Walks briskly because he still has to pack his clothing, grab the small 5x7 photo album that he keeps but never looks through. The small stack of savings he hides under his bed. He has just enough to fit in a small duffle bag and nothing more. 

When he arrives at the apartment, the memory of the too small office left behind him, he almost runs into Manon but his feet stuttered to a stop and he swings himself back before contact is ever made. 

“Sorry.”

“No, that’s fine.” Lucas gets a sense of deja vu as they continue to stare at each other, neither one making the move to step aside and let the other through. He’s done so much staring is such little time. 

He gestures with his head and she moves aside. Two steps away from what was once his room she calls out and stops him. 

“You’re different.” 

He turns to look at her, thin arms curled at her waist. Brunette locks tied up in cute little buns. Large green eyes blinking surprise at him. They were never really friends, moreso acquaintances. People who smiled at each other in passing and knew more than just names about one another. 

He had made the mistake of asking if she was okay once after an awful fight with her boyfriend. She had kindly reminded him that they weren’t exactly friends and it wasn’t his place to ask. He finds it odd that she reaches out to him now. Now when he stands just a little taller and more in-sync with the energy that buzzed around him. Remnants of _something_ making itself known. 

She tilts her head and she looks away, blushing at how forward she sounds. 

“Just...you seem alive. Well. You carry yourself differently.” And she is too forward. Acts too much like she cares. 

He shrugs her off. “Am I? I’m still me.”

Nothing has really changed. Not really. Him with just a little more sleep. He stands waiting to see if she was going to say anything more and to his disappointment, but not surprise, she doesn’t. He turns away from her and moves to pack his belongings still left in her room. 

When he turns to leave she stands there, braced against the threshold of the bedroom watching him. Lucas clears his throat and musters up the courage to speak. 

“How have I changed?” 

Because he wants to know what she sees now and what she saw before. 

She shrugs, bites at her lips in thought. “Just… before you were just…” Her voice trails off and she looks back at him, eyes taking him in from top to bottom and back again. 

“Sad.” She croaks out. “You were just always sad. It’s just gone now. ” 

Lucas shoulders his bag and does his best to side step her without making her put more effort in moving than she absolutely had to. 

He tries to make his way towards the door, wants to forget their conversation but she follows him. 

“You don’t think that’s a good thing?” She calls out after him. 

“I think…” he pauses, tries to search for the right word. He hovers close to the door, close to his route of escape. Lucas drops his hands and turns around. With the way she stares Lucas thinks it would have been wonderful to have a friend like her in some other life. He could see nights spent leaning on each other sitting on a couch laughing away worries. 

But, “I think you never knew me well enough to say that.” Because he stands in front of her so utterly destroyed emotionally and she couldn’t see it. Couldn’t tell that he was just one slip away from fracturing into tiny little pieces. Too small for him to pick up by himself. 

He wants to feel bad. Feel bad by the way her mouth drops open just the slightest and the way those green eyes well up with tears but none fall. Sorry for the way she looks away and swallows and swallows against the guilt that makes her chest heave with a shuddering breath. 

He doesn’t have it in him to comfort her so he walks away. Walks out the door knowing he wouldn’t see her again. He makes his way to his new home. Rides the bus and repeats the motions of four days ago, only this time he takes that extra step to reacquaint himself with his old bedroom. Hangs his meager clothing in the closet.

Lucas makes his bed home for the night. Curls underneath the cover despite not feeling tired. Stares into the darkness; at the dark coloring of his comforter and rides the wave that keeps him awake rather than lulling him to sleep. 

When he closes his eyes, Lucas counts the imaginary stars that hang behind his eyelids. He gets to the thousands, traces and retraces the constellations that cluster while he pretends to sleep. Does this well into the early hours of the morning. Continues this without feeling that fatigue that comes with not sleeping, for the next two weeks. He doesn't walk around like a zombie. When he sees Yann in the halls his heart thuds and he is wrecked on the inside.He never stops thinking about it. About that rush, about Yann, about Eliott. He smiles kindly, longingly at the other in passing. By the third time, Yann offers a small smile. 

A gesture that keeps Lucas going strong his third week of limited sleep. He waits patiently for the cycle to end. Wonders from time to time if it would happen again. Would he cut through the sky and land in Eliott’s arm. Would he hear kindness in Yann’s voice. He finds himself panicking at the thought that he wouldn’t. That it wouldn’t be the same and a whole different scenario would play out and he would have to adjust again just to catch some sleep. 

He doesn’t know if it would be worth it if there was no Eliott but he spends every minute thinking about it. By the fifth week he understands how drastic things could get. How superficial these pills could be. A short term solution for a long term problem. Because the pattern of sleep doesn’t change. He simply feels rested but knows it is a trick his mind plays on his body. 

He can’t control the shake. His chest feels concave and hollow as he moves about his days. Counting down. Holding on for as long as he could but the pain becomes unbearable. His limbs weighted and uncooperative. Eyes on fire and breathing heavy. Raggard. Lucas feels like he is dying. Burning alive. He longs for the cool touch of fingers running through his hair. Quiet whispers lying to him, telling him “it’ll be okay”. 

One day before he can give into some relief he struggles to stand. Collapses on a bench just outside of school as he attempts to make his way back home. Lucas cradles his own face in his hands and heaves and breaks down. His tears build and spill and slips through his fingers. Fingers two weak to hold the weight of water. 

He doesn’t know how long he breaks for but rushed hands filled with an urgency shakes him. 

“Lucas, dude. Are you okay?” 

He looks up and finds Yann, with that odd look of concern again. Where his brows are furrowed and his lips are frowned. 

“What?”

“Fuck, Lucas. You look horrible.” Yann straightens and looks around them finding nothing, mind running a mile a minute. 

“Should we go to the hospital? Maybe we can get you an IV, you’re pale as fuck man.” Yann rambles, tries to find solutions for the problem in front of him and Lucas almost feels like crying again. 

He shakes his head. Because he doesn’t want to see her again. 

“Yann.” The boy stops his talking, looks down at Lucas and waits. “Could you take me home?” He croaks and feels relief, flood him at the nod. 

Yann helps, supports him and sits silently beside him as he makes his way home. Yann doesn’t complain when Lucas leans against him, simply opens the door that leads to where the both of them spent countless days and nights playing as children. 

Lucas settles on the couch, sinking into the cushion and his reality comes crashing down around him as his precarious state is defined by the worry lines on Yann’s face. He doesn’t stop shaking and his vision fades in and out. His mouth dries and he tries desperately to wet his lips. 

Lucas feels a glass pushed against his mouth and he looks at Yann with thankful eyes. His fingers wrapped around the glass, spindly and frail. He looks down at himself and feels disgust at what he’s been reduced to. The thought of taking that pill in this moment strikes him and fear grips his heart. Because he was ready to give in and he hasn’t even made it to the second round. 

“Dude, you get help yet?” 

Lucas nods his head. Doesn’t speak about the pills, doesn’t mention the dreams. Doesn’t tell him that there is an Eliott, there is a place where the two of them are the bestest friends who call each other and talk. Like normal. 

“I think I’m just getting sick.” His voice is raspy, under used. Because he doesn’t talk to anyone. Doesn’t reach out. Yann looks up at the ceiling, at the wall, out the window; looks everywhere so he can look away from Lucas. 

Lucas doesn’t blame him. He pulls his feet up and curls up into a little ball leaving enough space on the couch for Yann to sit. 

Yann does. Though his limbs aches and his eyes hurt, Lucas feels something shift between the two of them. He feels peaceful. 

“How are Basile and Arthur?” The question breaks the silence and at first he thinks Yann wouldn’t answer. 

But he smiles when he hears the other cough out an answer. “Good. They’re good.” He doesn’t stop there. Tells Lucas in a quiet voice everything that’s been going on. How school is treating them. The girls they’ve fallen for. What they do on the weekends. Lucas lets his quiet voice wash over him and finds relief when he falls into a light and then deep sleep. 

When he wakes Yann is gone but the memories replay. His eyes adjust slightly to the darkness of the living room, finding that he has to use the light of his phone to light his way. He sees the glass half full on the table. A note scrawled out in familiar Yann fashion on loose paper. 

It has a number and a short “call me if you need anything” left for him to read. Lucas saves the number on his phone. Checks the time and sees that it is three in the morning. 

He chances it and sends the message despite the early hour. 

_Thank you for everything. I mean it._

And he does. Mean it, that is. Means it more than Yann could know. He doesn’t expect a response so he pulls himself up from the couch, the couple of hours of sleep doing little to fix his state of being. It is three in the morning and he has no restrictions now. Feels like he waited his six weeks and did his time. 

He doesn’t care that it is Tuesday. Doesn’t care that’ll he’ll miss school and any messages from Yann. 

Lucas makes the long trek to his room, closes the door behind him and lies down in his bed. He holds the pill up in the darkness, sees the outline and ignores the danger.

When Lucas closes his eyes and drops the pill in his mouth he anticipates the rush, the pain of flying. Instead, his lungs fill beyond capacity as he gasps. The burning weight of water chokes him as his body sinks and forcefully sways to an invisible current. He is pulled under and held in the tight embrace of a darkness so blinding he panics. He gulps and gulps and gulps but finds no reprieve. He flounders, body twisted every which way and gripped by an eminent cold he just can’t keep at bay. A numbness that travels from the tips of his fingers to the length of his arms. Feels his hair heavy and weightless as he floats. And just like that the wetness is gone, sucked away and his hair was plastered to his face and he sits up hastily only to be forcefully pulled backed by the belt that crosses his body. 

Eyes rapidly blinking and lungs trying so hard to suck in air. Lucas looks around him, head swiveling to catch sight of his moving surroundings and an Eliott who darts glances at him from his position behind a steering wheel. 

Lucas takes a moment, breathes with his eyes closed and calms his racing pulse. He can’t deny the happiness that blossoms in his chest at the sight of those unruly brunette locks, those shapely lips frowning as they may, and those ethereal eyes so unworldly. 

He was there and that was all that mattered. 

When Lucas turns towards Eliott he gives a small reassuring smile. Then turns his body with effort and looks behind and sees a duffel bag, a tent for three and gear that signaled a camping trip. They were going camping. He likes the idea of not being cooped up in the apartment, nice as it may be. 

“How much longer?”

Eliott does a one shoulder shrug and looks quickly to the dash for the time. 

“You were asleep for about 2hrs. I’d say half a day?” 

Lucas nods and looks out the window. They drive past skylines that tickle at his memory. Tells him, he knows where he is but can’t pinpoint anything. No street signs, no names of places. Just a road, a highway, a straight shot in front of him. He doesn't bother asking where they are headed knowing Eliott wouldn't be able to answer.

He relaxes into his seat bathing in the golden glow that is cast on them. 

"How about some music?" He asks. A warmth spreads in his bones pushing out the shadows of cold still lingering as Eliott's face morphs and his grin gets sly, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

"Oh? You're letting me choose?" 

Lucas doesn't know what he is getting himself into. Doesn't know what Eliott is capable of but he wants to know. Wants to learn everything there is to learn about Eliott. Lucas wants these types of silly regrets not the crippling kind not the kind that linger and you only simply wish for it to go away. Lucas wants to be able to smile, roll his eyes and secretly be fond of the discovery, to be able to say he regrets ever asking but in truth loves knowing.

Eliott is like a little kid, shoulders moving as he chuckles, mouth molded in a wide smile as his hands reach for the radio. He turns the volume all the way up before he presses play. 

He feels the vibration but doesn't hear the sound. Eliott throws his head back, cheeks split in a howl. The older boy release the wheel for a second fingers dancing in the air to a soundless beat that Lucas is deaf to and Lucas finds himself eating up the sight,his own smile wide and aching. A silent film playing itself in front of him and he wonders if he could continue to live like this. Day in and day out, living life without sound without sense. 

Just Lucas and Eliott. A course that is pre-dictated for him. Of one he has little control over. 

But sitting there, bathing in the evident happiness Lucas thinks he is capable of anything. 

Everything. 

He shakes his head at the others antics, lets it go on for a couple minutes before he speaks. Words vague enough to keep their conversation going. 

“You call this music?” He asks, voice too low so Eliott turns the volume down too much so that Lucas loses the sensation of vibrations licking at his chest.

Lucas repeats himself, and Eliott holds a hand to his chest, face looking appalled. 

“Dubstep is the music of the soul.” He is joking but Lucas lifted a brow in disbelief. 

Dubstep. Of everything they could have been listening too. It was dubstep. He shakes his head, heart warming at discovering such a thing about the other. A beautiful artist who listens to dubstep. 

He holds the information close. 

“You still seem tired, why don’t I put some of the classics on and you can keep napping?” Eliott says this, voice softening as his hand reaches towards the console, grabs a coffee cup that Lucas overlooked and takes a sip. 

From between the gaps of Eliott’s fingers Lucas sees a logo. A sleepy cat, words, and what looked like an address printed on the side of the paper cup. In a moment of hysteria, Lucas lunges for the cup. 

“Hey, hey! Calm down. What the fuck Lucas?” 

Lucas ignores the alarm and holds the cup up close to his face. What he thought was a cat turns out to be a very familiar sleeping raccoon, curled around a name, _The Sleepy Racoon_ ; a cafe bar. An address in small print, underneath it, wrapping around the width of the cup. An address that was familiar. One he’s passed by on many occasions. Lucas can’t help but hold his breath at the sign given to him from the universe. He commits it to memory and looks up past his beating heart into Eliott’s eyes. Eyes that were growing worried and concerned at his silence. 

“Sorry. Sorry...I-I thought I saw a bug.” For whatever reason, Eliott accepts his sad excuse and takes the cup back from Lucas, his movements slow and gentle so as not to startle the other. 

“It’s fine just...” He breathed out a sigh. 

“How about that music?” Lucas questions. And Eliott lets it go, shoulders sagging. He nods once, hair bouncing and his hand reaching to turn the dial again. 

Lucas settles back in his seat and lets the silence secure him in light sleep. Lucas closes his blue eyes, feeling light. So light he lets his mind float away, dreaming of sleepy raccoons and musical notes that dance in the air all around him. Large notes that swirl and sing a song and tells a story of love that exists. 

Lucas chases after it, runs until he finds himself on that familiar street of buildings towering over him. Everywhere he looks he sees the faces of strangers. Long hair, short hair, tall and short. Girls, boys, women and children all old and young. Lucas spins in place and his world tilts on its axis. So much so that he falls and when he screams no one turns to look, because it is Eliott's name on his lips, on his tongue and noone there has his hair, stands with his stature. Noone looks on with his eyes. Noone there was Eliott and that scares Lucas more than anything.

When his eyes snap open, he sees trees and the darkness of the woods in front of him. Lucas breathes in and out and calms himself when he looks over and sees Eliott smile at him. 

"C'mon sleepy head. We're here." And Lucas pulls himself together. He gets out of the car and feels the crunch beneath his feet. The crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs. Feels it all but doesn't hear. 

Lucas reaches in the backseat and takes one of the packs for himself while Eliott takes the other. It's only a matter of minutes before they are walking on a path in the dark. Tall trees loom on either side of them and the moon peeks out high above in the sky. When Lucas looks up at it, full in its picture and sitting along the companionship of the stars he just knows, that is the same moon he stares at most nights. 

A shared moon in his reality and his dreams. Deep in the woods, with Eliott walking two paces in front of him leading as their path is lit by the occasional blinking of fireflies near his feet, to his left and his right. Lucas finds it all to be breathtaking.

He isn't sure how long they walk the winding paths but Eliott sets down camp in an open field where the grass is tall enough to grip between fingers and the trees are far away but close enough to offer comfort. Where the vast expanse of the sky was unhindered and there for their viewing. Eliott puts together the tent and Lucas lays out a blanket next to them. There is a hint of a breeze that ruffles his hair. 

When he lies down staring up at the swirls of stars and galaxies he feels a sense of serenity fill him up from the inside. Eliott shifts and sits beside his prone body, hands reaching to twine their fingers as they take in the beauty that rests above them. 

"Do you believe in parallel universes?" Eliott asks, voice subdued.

Lucas turns to look at him, questions in his eyes but unable to voice any of it. So Eliott explains. Universes where there were different versions of themselves. Maybe with the slightest difference. Where he was still the same Eliott but with green eyes. 

A universe where they never met.

"A universe where we didn't love each other but are still friends. Do you believe in those, Lucas?"

Lucas swallows past the lump in his throat and he feels the bitter pressure of tears building so he looks away from Eliott. Looks back at that familiar moon. Looks up at the trail of dusty stars that have led him astray.

"I believe…" he starts, voice thick like sap. "I believe in us."

Because there was no way there would be a universe in which Lucas didn't love Eliott. 

"If there was a universe that existed where I didn't love you," he looks back at Eliott. Makes sure that Eliott understands. "It is because I haven't found you yet."

Eliott doesn't respond. Doesn't use his voice but bends down to drop a kiss on Lucas's lips in a simple gesture that makes Lucas feel complete. 

Eliott shifts so that he lies curled up next to Lucas. Arms bracing his head. The both of them looking up at the heavens, those same fingers running lovingly through Lucas' hair. Eliott presses gentle kisses to his temple and each time his eyes close a d he sighs, feeling loved. 

"It's weird," Eliott starts, voice a whisper. A level so low Lucas strains to hear the way his voice cracks as he talks. 

"There are moments. When you're like someone else." 

Lucas hums in response. 

"Like you're still Lucas. But different. Like...like you love me so much more. And you do little things that aren't like you."

Lucas looks up and sees Eliott looking down at him from his position. 

"You're quieter." His voice trails off and Lucas doesn't know what to say because he has replaced a Lucas that exists in this dream world with this version of himself. Where does the other go when he takes this pill? He feels the guilt fester and does his best to squash it because he wants to be selfish. 

"Is it a bad thing?"

Eliott shakes his head. 

"No, just something I noticed."

"I'm still me." Lucas tries again. As if having to to convince the other. Eliott nods, brings up a finger and traces the contours of Lucas' face lovingly. Touches the bridge of his nose, runs the smooth stretch of his cheeks. Fingers catching on his lips, creating patterns on his chin.

"You are." 

There, staring up at eyes that rivaled the cosmos in beauty, Lucas fights back the urge to sleep.  
But he sees the chirping of fireflies, imagines the symphony of the night playing a song that makes his lids heavy and his limbs weak. 

He drifts off to Eliott's voice, whispering to him.

"...You're perfect to me. No matter what."

When he wakes he sees the sun. He sees clouds and sees birds flying overhead. When he wakes and looks with his eyes he sees Eliott sitting with a sketch pad, concentrated. And when Eliott catches him looking, Eliott breaks out into a grin and put the pencil down. He flips the pad and Lucas is looking at his own face, rested, sleeping. An unfamiliar sight. 

“Couldn’t help myself. You looked peaceful.” 

Lucas doesn’t say anything back, a response Eliott has sure to become used to at this point. But he isn't upset, isn’t angry. Instead he stretches his legs, leans back and lifts his chin to the air. Eyes closed and taking in the moment. 

Lucas wants to stay. Wants this all to be his. He’d give up all his senses for this to be real. 

“What if I told you this was all a dream?” The question is out before he could stop himself. Eliott opens one eye and peeks at him, his smile becoming more subdued as he thinks of a response. 

The taller boy curls his legs back in, pushes himself to all fours and crawls towards Lucas, looming over him--limbs boxing the smaller boy in-- and Lucas is rendered speechless as Eliott eclipses the sun; casting a shadow against the brightness. 

“I’d beg for you to stay asleep.” 

When he blinks, the illusion is gone and Lucas is staring up at a dull plaster ceiling. He dry heaves in his position, doesn't want to run to the bathroom but forces himself to. 

When he is done, emptied of all buildup Lucas lies there on the tiled floor chest pumping as he breathes heavy. Lucas doesn't try to hold back the tears because he feels that something has been irrevocably destroyed.

A will to continue. 

He cries out for an Eliott that doesn't exist. An Eliott that doesn't hear him as he curls in on himself, feeling the most rested in weeks but so utterly shattered that Lucas can't find all the pieces of himself. 

His fingers scrape on the floor, struggles to grasp onto his sensibility but all he wants is to take his third pill. Take it and transport back to the night sky and the sun and Eliott, Eliott. _Eliott._

He sobs. 

Voice breaking under the pressure and force. Chest shuddering, pain filling his senses as he can't get enough air into his lungs. Hands curled into fists and pounding slightly at the side of his head trying to get the thoughts to spill out. Trying to be rid of the hurt. He needs help. 

Lucas pulls himself up, wipes at his face but the tears keep coming. Scrambles back into the room and looks at his phone for the time. It is noon on Saturday and he has a small window before Dr. Côte leaves for the day. But first, he had to make a quick stop. Had to find out if it existed. He doesn’t quite pick up the pieces of himself, runs out the door still incomplete. But a pressing need forces his legs to move.

Lucas ignores the looks, the concern of strangers who look on as he renders himself crushed. His face warped and blotched from all the crying. Lucas rides the bus downtown, hangs on tight for all the twist and turns. Uses his memory to lead him to that place, the address that drifts in his thoughts. Printed in fine print on a coffee cup. 

Fifteen minutes in and Lucas finds himself standing in front of a building. New construction. A sign hangs above the door that says, _Coming Soon: The Sleepy Raccoon._

Lucas’ heart soars at the same time as fear grips him. Because it exists but it doesn’t yet. He doesn’t know what that means for him. He turns to look around him, at all the foot traffic. Tries to see if he can catch a glimpse of dark locks and mesmerizing eyes. He sees neither of those. Finds himself in a sea of strangers. Lucas tugs on his hair once, twice and leaves the shop behind him. He hops back on the bus and makes his way to the office with a heavy heart. When he’s there, reaches the office, Lucas doesn’t wait to be called in. He doesn’t have an appointment but he catches her as she is about to close her door. When she looks up, catches sight of him, her face schools and she quickly reassures the receptionist that everything is okay. 

“I’ll see him now.” A low whisper she throws over her shoulder as she ushers Lucas into the room, door closing for privacy. 

He feels the terror running the course of his veins, turns to look at her blue eyes and his tears spill over. Lucas pulls the pills from his pocket and pushes them her way as she sits across from him. The surface of the table places a distance between the two. 

“Lucas, are--”

“I’ll take them.” His voice raspy, eyes determined to convey the implications of the words. 

Dr. Côte’s eyes widen in alarm as she is quick to grab the pills, puts them in the box and locks them up. 

“You mean...?” 

Lucas shakes his head, nods it, swallows and closes his eyes before he gears himself up to speak. Because how can he get her to understand. 

“We…” It’s we because he is part of this narrative. Part of the group whose story has played out too similarly now. “We were never chasing sleep.” 

Never chasing sleep but being granted it as a nice consolation prize. A prize for living a life of love and acceptance and surviving as it was ripped away time and time again with the start of a new cycle. 

He wants to tell the doctor that her daughter is happy. Because she chose to stay asleep. She chose to make her reality the images and the dreams that her mind thought up. Her reality was the universe that she was unlucky enough to not have been born into. 

Lucas thinks the same for himself. He wants to grant Eliott his wish. Wants to stay asleep for him. But the sight of the _Coming Soon_ banner flashes and there is hope that drips slowly and fills him. Hope that he would find his Eliott. Find an Eliott. 

“I will take it too soon if I have it on me.” _I can’t keep doing this._ He stands to leave, pockets lighter than they have been in weeks. 

“Lucas, what are you chasing?” Lucas hears the sniffle in her voice, knows that she’s just trying to get that much closer to that truth. That truth that Lucas found the moment he saw concerned eyes staring up at him. The moment he caught sight of a set of yellow curtains. 

_I lived a slice of perfection._ Perhaps he was chasing love. He knew he was chasing Eliott. 

He shrugs, because he doesn’t think he could help her understand. He leaves the office, steps a little lighter. Lucas spends the afternoon researching the new Cafe Bar that was due to open soon. Lucas fills out an application. When he’s not waiting for a response, Lucas travels to the sight every day. On the weekends he lingers and watches those that passes by. It only takes two weeks before he hears back. 

Hears that he’s got the job from the owner. A young blonde with a bubbly smile and understanding hazel eyes. He gets trained to be ready before opening day. His sleeping situation doesn’t get any better but he tries harder to keep his eyes closed, relishing in every minute that his mind is rested. Lucas tries to stay positive. 

He doesn’t take the pill again. By that sixth week Lucas is sent home for two days as he waits for the exhaustion to pass. Waits for the shaking to stop. Two days after that sixth week mark Lucas feels like he is getting slightly better. He sleeps for a full four hours without being woken. 

He dreams of nothing. When he does wake, there is only a dull ache tied with a weariness. He heads into work that evening and thanks to his boss for the time off. 

To which the young owner ruffles his hair gently and tells him, “Just take care of yourself.” 

His days stretch long and winded, and he goes through the motions without much thought. He doesn’t stop longing. Mind whispering, _it could have been yours._

It could have been. But it wasn’t. He could have chosen Eliott but he didn’t. He thinks back to what he told the other, when he was so sure of himself. 

_“It’s because I haven’t found you yet.”_

So Lucas serves deliciously crafted coffee drinks in paper cups that are missing the cute drawing of a sleeping raccoon. Waiting. When Yann, Basile, and Arthur enter the shop one day, he smiles and tells them their drinks are on the house. 

“For that time you helped me out.” 

Yann nods his thanks and Bas grins at them before shouting an invitation for Lucas to join them for a Saturday game night. 

Lucas finds himself blushing and stuttering before Yann rolls his eyes and speaks for him. 

“That’s a yes, he’ll meet us at 8 on Saturday at my place.” 

And like that Lucas has plans. Plans that he hasn’t had in years. But he nodded after them as they leave the shop and he does his best to quell the butterflies in his stomach. Saturday morning comes and Lucas makes drinks and handles hot porcelain cups. 

“Lucas, a flat white.” 

“Lucas, a cappuccino.”

“Lucas, a caramel macchiato.” 

He hands over drinks without looking, during the rush. Until he hears a voice that stops his movements. Makes him drop a cup and he’s shaken by the shatter, shaken by the impact of porcelain on luxury vinyl tiling. 

“Thanks.” When Lucas looks up his breath catches and he wants to jump the counter into muscular arms that are all to familiar and yet different. _Eliott_ is on the tip of his tongue but the lack of recognition as their eyes catch stops him from shouting. 

There is little that is different about the other, most being that his hair is slightly longer here, as he stands in front of him. There is a mole on his chin that wasn’t there before. Lucas is slow in his apology but he is quick to turn and make another drink. When he turns back around, Eliott is smiling softly at him.

“I’m sorry.” 

“No that’s okay.” Eliott reassures him. Accepts the drink and lingers for a moment, as if wanting to ask something but decides against it. Something in Lucas tells him he needs to speak up before he loses his chance. All the memories flood him at once and his pulse quickens as his face heats and he is aware that he is staring. 

“I’m Lucas!” He practically shouts at the other. He can’t bring himself to look into widened eyes so he stares at the buttons on Eliott’s shirt instead.

“Uh...hi.” Eliott chuckles. “Nice to meet you, I’m Eliott.” He knows. Lucas knows and he is filled with a sense of elation at the introduction. Even when that is the extent of their interaction. And it is nothing like what Lucas had imagined it would be. But he is happy regardless.

Lucas watches as Eliott moves to sit near the shop window, taking up a corner seat. Two boys Lucas has never seen in his life already seated, waiting patiently for Eliott to get comfortable. He stands for a moment, heart a mess in his chest, and breath short as he looks on. They catch gazes once again and Lucas finds it in himself to smile, small and true before turning away to make another drink. 

He sleeps well that night. Better than he has in years as he dreams of swirling cosmic eyes and a light laughter that makes Lucas breathe easy. 

He found him. Finally.

**Author's Note:**

> @ bluronyourradar on tumblr
> 
> Apologies for all the mistakes.


End file.
